Bleed

I bleed slowly on tattered bedsheets,
Of closely minced with dead meat,
Rotting, degenerating, infested with melamine ticks,
For my blood thickens and spreads unevenly over times before and after,
As I try finding myself,
Over the corpses of my dead dreams,
The desires gutted in slumber,
I cry for help,
For the end is not near…..